


Attached to the wrong word.

by spandwiches



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chips and Dip, Costumes, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Owls, Super Bowl, Typos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9603728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spandwiches/pseuds/spandwiches
Summary: Dean invites Cas to catch the game with them.And Castiel pounces on the chance to attend a Superb Owl party.





	

**From: Dean. 02-05-2017 09:27**

_Last minute decision to throw a superb owl party tonight. Excuse to get everyone to drop by with snacks while we catch the game._

**From: Castiel. 02-05-2017 9:31am**

_It sounds intriguing, Dean. I think this could be quite enjoyable. Should I dress up?_

Dean frowned reading Cas' reply, one corner of his mouth curling up at his strange enthusiastic friend. Trust Cas to want to throw himself fully into experiencing all Human customs. He quickly sent a text back.

**From: Dean. 02-05-2017 09:33**

_Well sure, if there's one team you feel more strongly about. I know Donna is going full on Falcons, but that's mainly due to her hating the alternative. Just be here before the game, about 5._

Dean pocketed his cell phone and went back to selecting a pie from the grocery store to go along with the case of beer already in his cart. He had no idea if Cas was really into football, he'd certainly never shown much interest in sports before, but this was the Super Bowl. Even people who usually had no interest watched the spectacle. His Mom was practically buzzing with excitement after Sam had told her all about the commercials and half-time performance. Apparently the great American pastime of watching sports had evolved somewhat over the past thirty odd years.

"John and I used to go over to the neighbor's house since we didn't have a color television. I'd usually make a dip or something, with some vegetables to dip in. Then we'd mainly talk and occasionally watch when the ball was near the end zone. It was more a social event than anything else. Sometimes we would watch the marching bands and drill teams perform at half time, but that was only if there was a lull in conversation."

"Wow, Mom." Sam had paused from stacking up the books which had been strewn over the floor of the room that they generally thought of as the Bunker's lounge. "That sounds... nice. And normal. I can't imagine Dad watching sports in any situation than with Uncle Bobby; a bottle of whisky between them, and a whole bunch of yelling at the TV." 

"Well it was nice, at that point in our lives. I'd quit hunting when I married John, and Dean was just a baby. I know you never knew that side of your father, but he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father." Mary smiled sadly.

Dean went over and put his arm around her. "Well, Mom, things might have changed - er, a whole lot - but we can still be a family and enjoy this American tradition with some friends."

Dean smiles at the apple pie in his hands he's been staring blankly at for the past few minutes. Yup, he's excited to have his family and friends with him to share the game and the pie. 

\---

After his text conversation with Dean, Castiel heads straight to a costume store.

It's a specialist shop he'd noticed a few times previously when driving past: Identity Crisis.

The wooden door in the small storefront opens to reveal a room filled with rails and rails of costumes, running back to where the light coming in from the big glass front can no longer reach them. 

Castiel is about to start working his way through the crowded racks when a head emerges over the top of the coat hangers.

"Welcome to Identity Crisis. Is there something specific I can help you find?"

"Oh, hello. Er, yes. I'm looking for an owl costume ideally. Although I suppose another bird of prey might be acceptable. I think someone is dressing as a falcon."

"Certainly, sir. I think we have a few owl suits. Let me find those for you and you can decide which one will work best for you."

He hurries off and Castiel pulls out his phone to text Dean.

**From: Castiel. 02-05-2017 10:42am**

_Will we be eating the game? Trying to work out if I should get a full face mask._

It only takes a minute for his phone to buzz with a reply.

**From: Dean. 02-05-2017 10:43**

_Yeah, there'll be a ton of food. I bought pie! But a helmet with a full face mask would look awesome. I love that you're going all out for this._

Castiel is about to reply again, when the man comes back buried under several garment bags.

"Okay," the man's voice is muffled by the volume of costumes he's holding, "we have a generic owl suit, a barn owl suit, and a snowy owl mask and wing set, according to the inventory labels."

He heaps the pile of bags onto a large counter, and begins to smooth them out. Castiel walks over to examine the choices.

The 'generic owl' is first one to be unpacked. It's a brown felt coat with an embroidered feather design. The hood has a garish plastic beak attached and the arms have an extra piece of fabric hanging from them to form the wings. 

Castiel forehead wrinkles as he frowns down at it.

"This isn't quite what I had hoped for. The theme for the party is _superb_ owls. There is even going to be game. Probably some rabbits and grouse. Do owls catch pheasants?"

The attendant shrugged his shoulders but didn’t answer.

“My point is,” Castiel continued, “is that they are going all out. So it needs to be something really special.”

“Of course. I think we have something that will meet your standards.” The man re-bags the costume, unzipping the protective casing from the hanger of the next one. It turns out to be the snowy owl mask and wing set.

"Oh yes, this is much more what I'd imagined." Cas reaches out tentatively to touch the wings. "Are these real feathers?"

The man examines the inventory label. 

"No, Sir. Entirely synthetic. They require steam cleaning, and are hypoallergenic according to the care label."

The feathers are silver-white interspersed with black flecks, layered in sections which seem to be hinged with a satiny fabric so that they unfold to form a full wing.

The attendant holds them up, gesturing for Castiel to try them on.

"They fasten under the armpits, above and below the elbow, and around the wrist." He deftly works the hook and eye fasteners at the points as he lists them. "Then there's a chest harness that stops it dropping off your shoulders." He turned Castiel around by the shoulders and buckled the white webbing strap across his chest before stepping out of the way. “There”

Castiel saw himself reflected in a huge mirror. His arms looked bulky, and the wing tips of the longest feathers were visible below his hands, but other than that he still looked much like Jimmy Novak.

“Go ahead and spread your arm out,” the attendant encouraged.

He slowly raised one arm up, holding it out horizontally to himself, and felt his breath catch. He had wings again. Huge white wings that shone eerily in the poor light of the overcrowded costume shop. It felt strange needing to move his arms to see them flex and spread, but when he did, they looked and behaved fairly realistically. He tested opening and closing them a few times, as well as some gentle flaps, revelling at the subtle drafts created by the action.

The attendant coughed slightly. “Uhm, would you like to see the hood as well, Sir?”

Yes, of course, this was an owl costume that Castiel was renting for a party. The sight of the wings had thrown him momentarily.

“Certainly, yes. Please.”

He was handed what was essentially a white balaclava, only covered in smaller versions of the same feathers that the wings were made up of. Above the face opening were two pieces of convex plastic, intricately painted and looking unnervingly realistic. The beak extended down between them giving the feeling of a visor on a knight’s helmet. It was made of densely stuffed satin embroidered fabric. 

“Would you like to try it on? Or perhaps see the other costume?”

“No. No, thank you. This will be perfect.” Castiel ran a hand admiringly down the length of the beak. “Except–”

He wasn’t sure exactly what he needed to ask for.

“You would like something to wear with the wings and hood to complete the look. Of course, Sir. I have exactly the thing.” The attended hurried away again, leaving Castiel to twist to try and see in the mirror how the wings looked from behind.

Twenty minutes later he left the shop with a carefully packed garment bag on its hanger, a stuffed shopping bag, and a small satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

\---

“Where’s Cas?” Jodie asked from her perch on the arm of Alex’s chair. 

“He wanted to get dressed up for the party.” Dean takes a swig from the beer bottle he’s holding and hands the other over. “Seemed real happy when he got home this morning. Said he’d found the perfect thing.”

“He has been in his room kind of a long time though.” Sam added. “Think I should tell him they’re about to sing the anthem?”

Dean’s reply came in the form of an affirmative grunt as his attention had suddenly shifted to watching the hot guy signing along with the singer. Sam shook his head disparagingly and got up to head toward the passageway, only to stop dead in his tracks.

“Woah! Cas?”

Dean, Mary, Jodie, Donna, Alex and Claire turned their focus beyond Sam to greet Castiel. 

“I thought you were going to dress as a falcon, Donna?” Castiel sounded wounded.

“You’re an owl, Cas.” Dean was standing too now, walking over to get a better look at him.

“Yes, I am. A snowy owl. You said the theme of the party was superb owls. The snowy owl is one of the most superb species, so this seemed like the perfect costume.” He made an irritated gesture as he spoke, making the wings flutter elegantly at his sides.

No one spoke, as former president Bush senior tossed the commemorative coin on the screen behind them.

Sam was the first to recover. “Super Bowl, Cas. It’s a football themed party for the Super Bowl.”

“No. Dean wrote in his text: superb owl. He said there would be game, presumably not live game of course. And he said that you were dressing as a falcon, Donna, because you don’t like owls for some reason.”

Donna came over and put her arm around Castiel’s feathered shoulders. “I am dressed as a falcon, Cas. An Atlanta Falcon. That’s the red team.” She gestured to the television behind them. “Because Doug used to support the Patriots. Er, the team playing in white.”

 

Castiel looked down at the plush golden claw slippers on his feet. “You’re all here to watch a football game?” He felt more than saw them nod “So why did Dean say there would be an owl theme?”

Now it was Dean’s turn to have their collective attention.“Don’t look at me like that,” he shrugged, “I said we were having folks over for the game is all.”

“Yes, to catch the game. I assumed there would be some sort of challenge with stuffed rabbits and grouse.” 

Dean dropped his forehead into the palm of one hand while fishing his cell phone out with the other. “Here it is.” He began to read the message aloud and then stopped. “Shit, Cas. I am so sorry, man. Musta hit the space at the wrong time. It does say superb owl. The B is on the wrong word.” He held it out so Castiel could see.

He scrolled through the text conversation before handing the phone back to Dean.

“And when you said your costume had a face mask,” Dean clarified, “I assumed you’d found an old football helmet or something.”

“I do see how the misunderstanding happened.” Castiel seemed to have visibly deflated.

“Should we watch the game?” Mary asked.

Everyone began to settle back down in the various chairs or piles of cushions that had been gathered from across the Bunker earlier in the day. The Men of Letters had not been keen on sofas apparently.

Dean was about to return to the bench he’d previously been left with, but noticed Castiel still standing in the entrance to the passageway. He looked questioningly at the angel, trying not to notice quite how incredible Cas looked in the white lycra bodysuit.

“I think I should probably go and change into my usual clothes.” 

“No! Uh, no, Cas. You went to all this effort. And you look amazing. Really.”

Castiel’s gaze slowly lifted to connect with Dean’s. They stood for several moments, just blue reflecting green in unspoken understanding. Until Dean lifts a hand to brush the tips of the a wing.

“Are they– I mean, obviously your real ones are bigger, but…” He doesn’t know how to convey what seeing Cas with wings means to him.

“I know. When I tried them on at the costume store I just stood and stared.” Castiel smiles a little sadly at the memory. “It was a peculiar combination of right and wrong. I can’t get used to them being fixed to my arms, and yet the sight of white feathers and the way the air eddies when they move…” His voice is barely audible as he tries to explain it, looking down at his feet again.

Dean follows his gaze and notices the novelty slippers. It’s more than he can take, and he grabs Castiel by the arm dragging him away from the gathered party. “We should get you a beer,” he practically yells, pulling Castiel into passageway.

“Dean I don’t need…oooof!” Castiel finds himself pinned to a wall with Dean’s mouth moving against his own. He kisses back unhesitatingly tilting his head to ease their angle, loving the softness of Dean’s lips when he presses his teeth to them. Dean’s mouth opens on a moan, allowing Castiel to slide inside to twist the tips of their tongues together.

He brings one hand up to drag his fingers along Dean’s jaw, a satisfied rumble of sound surfacing when he feels Dean’s hands skimming his hips through the taut shiny fabric of the bodysuit.

“This. This is _awesome_! You look incredible in it.” Dean leans back and lets his eyes roam possessively down the white lycra clad body he has pinned to the wall. His fingers follow his gaze, eliciting a shudder from Castiel. “You _feel_ awesome.” Dean’s fingers are at his hips again, and Castiel lets out another sinful noise when Dean slides round to Castiel’s ass, and pulls them flush against each other.

“Well if I’m not going to change,” Castiel whispers between kisses, “we should at least rejoin the party.”

“Mmmmm.” 

He’s not sure if Dean is agreeing with him or reacting to Castiel’s lips on his earlobe.

“Gonna need a minute, Cas.” He delivers one, two… many last kisses to Cas’ lips before sighing and pushing himself off of the wall.

Cas looks incredible. The bodysuit outlines his erection almost artistically, and his eyes are half closed in a blissed out haze beneath the mask of the owl. His lips are swollen and a little pinker than usual and Dean has to turn away to stop himself from returning to them. They do have guests, and a football game to watch, after all.

He takes a few deep, grounding breaths before turning back around to see Castiel a little more composed too. They busy themselves getting beers and filling bowls with chips and dip, while studiously avoiding making physical contact or looking directly at one another.

By the time everything is gathered Dean feels almost in control again and raises his eyebrows at Castiel by way of a question. He nods, a small smug smile on his lips, and leads the way back to the television, leaving Dean to follow behind with an amazing view of his ass. “Oh, and Cas?” Castiel stops and turns to look back at Dean. “Don’t ever change.”

\---

Even Castiel admits it was an exciting game. “Although I still don’t understand why Atlanta didn’t get to have a turn during the over time.” 

Sam shakes his head. He’s explained the over time rules several times in the past half hour.

“Yeah. Likewise.” Donna agrees grumpily. The red and black stripes painted on her cheeks are a little smudged now.

“Come on, let me show you guys which rooms we made up for you.” The women begin to shuffle and rise to follow Sam towards another wing of the Bunker.

“One hell of a Super Bowl.” 

Castiel looks down at Dean, whose head is nestled in his lap. “I enjoyed experiencing the ritual. Especially having our friends being here to share in it.”

“Sorry about the mix up with the text.” Castiel strokes Dean’s hair, and his eyelids droop. “But I’m not sorry about the costume. Seriously, Cas. You nailed the superb owl.” He looks totally blissed out lying on the hard bench with just his head supported.

Castiel continues to run his fingers through the short golden brown strands at his temples. “What about you, Dean? Will you nail the superb owl?” 

The green eyes are now open wide and looking up at Castiel, registering the smug look, and quirked eyebrow. “Was that a pun, Cas? You mean… Are you asking me to…?”

He’s not sure if the nod actually happened or not, but Dean is on his feat in a flash and only too aware that Castiel is right behind him as he heads to their room. Yeah, this is a Super Bowl he’s not going to forget in a hurry.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any stupid typos - most of this was written while I was watching the game, and now I'm finally finishing it just after midnight. :-)
> 
> This came about because [Persephoneshadow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephoneshadow/pseuds/Persephoneshadow) was saying that her feed was full of superb owls this morning, which, of course, got me scheming up a story about Cas getting confused by the super bowl. Thus this fic happened.


End file.
